


2. begging

by fall_into_life



Series: Kinktober 2018 [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Asexual Spectrum Character, Begging, Canon-Typical Mock Combat, F/F, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Safer Sex, Sex Toys, manual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: Queen's Champion Winter Schnee and her wife Yang Schnee meet Lady Pyrrha Nikos, Mistrali knight-errant. It goes much better than any of them expected.Reading the first piece in this series isn't necessary, but will enrich your experience.





	2. begging

In the past eight years, the Kingdom of Atlas has become known for their elaborate celebrations. Before the coronation of Queen Weiss Schnee, they honored only the high holidays, and had smaller, informal celebrations for the namedays of direct royal descendants.

Since her coronation, however, and the subsequent retitling of _Prince_ Whitley Schnee to _Lord_ Whitley Schnee, the Atlesian court has advanced considerably. Formerly comprised of only a handful of titles and positions - the bare minimum needed to run a kingdom - it has since swelled to a court worthy of Vale's complex mass of titles, or Mistral's cutthroat politics.

All three Schnee siblings attend court on the high holidays, and for one of their namedays. Aside from those guarantees, Lord Whitley attends every event, with occasional appearances by Winter Schnee in her capacity as Champion, and very rarely the Queen herself.

When word spreads throughout the capital city that all of the Schnee siblings are in attendance at an otherwise unremarkable ball, a great many nobles hasten to put on their finery and scramble to find an invite.

The truth of the matter is nothing more than this: in the middle of a boring week, which came at the end of a boring month, Whitley Schnee coaxed his sisters - and, more importantly, Winter's wife - into coming to a ball he threw because he was, as stated, quite bored.

Winter still isn't sure how he talked Yang into coming.

"Ah, and there's Lady Nikos. She was rumored to be in the vicinity."

All three Schnees turn to look at where Pyrrha Nikos stands at the drinks table, held captive by Ozpin, the Valean Court Magician.

Winter looks last, deliberately finishing her drink before following her siblings' gazes. There's something in Whitley's voice that suggests he knows exactly why she'll find Nikos' presence notable, and Winter makes an effort not to jerk when he tugs at her strings. He generally does understand her tastes, but that hardly means she has to ask how high he wants her to jump. An attractive woman will wait a few more seconds.

Of course, that fails to take into account just _how_ attractive Lady Pyrrha Nikos is. It is rare that Winter finds women that reach her height, yet judging by her stature relative to Ozpin, Nikos must be tall enough to easily meet Winter's eyes. Unlike her fellow knights, she's wearing only a nod to ceremonial armor: a set of greaves, an exquisitely-wrought breastplate, and a sword at her side. The tunic underneath - and Winter is not at all surprised Nikos' clothing is more traditional than modern - is of a simple make, colored a rich red and leaving quite little to the imagination. Her arms and legs are otherwise bare, and as muscled as anyone Winter has ever met, including her wife, who served as a caravan guard for eight years before they met.

Winter and Weiss make considering noises at the same time.

"Why yes," Winter says, setting her glass down upon the tray of a wandering waiter, "yes, it is."

Weiss tosses her drink back and holds it out, as if Winter will be taking it from her. Winter just raises an eyebrow.

"I am going to ask her for a dance," Weiss says, eyes boring into Winter's.

Oh, no. "I think not. You bedded Lord Belladonna on Midwinter; I claim right of first speech. As soon as Yang returns--"

Weiss holds up a hand, shaking her head. "Do _not_ elaborate further. And no, I will be speaking with her first. Queen's privilege."

"Champion's privilege," Winter counters.

Whitley clears his throat, cutting in. "The two of you can drool over Lady Nikos. Meanwhile, Lord Arc has certainly filled out since last he was in the castle."

Winter and Weiss both grimace.

Before the argument can continue, Yang enters the ballroom. She immediately catches Winter's eye, and looks pointedly at Nikos, making exaggerated faces. Her eyebrows waggle, and Winter muffles a cough into her hand to hide her smile.

"My wife has made her decision," Winter says, not bothering to even feign regret. "I have a knight to speak with."

Behind her, Weiss sputters. Winter doesn't break stride. She saw Lord Belladonna, and Weiss made her play without so much as notifying Winter. She can suffer while Winter speaks to the Mistrali knight.

Knighthood is a complicated thing in the modern kingdoms. The right lineage is enough to qualify, but between training, journeying, and the trials, it generally takes ten years to become a knight in even a single kingdom. It is possible to journey in another kingdom, be granted knighthood in a trial by combat, or have the resident monarch (or prince, or shah; whoever qualifies as royalty by their laws) bestow a knighthood, but having a dual knighthood is a rare thing. Pyrrha Nikos is the only person living who holds a knighthood in all four kingdoms.

When Winter arrives, Nikos has the slightly-haunted look of most people who spend an appreciable amount of time speaking with Ozpin. Winter personally finds him boring rather than irritating the way her sister does, or delightful to frustrate as Whitley does. 

"Lady Nikos," Winter says smoothly, crossing her arms behind herself. "I must speak with you." She inclines her head towards Ozpin. "Security concerns. You understand."

Ozpin sweeps a hand generously. "Of course, Lady Schnee."

Nikos follows Winter with gratitude in her eyes, not seeming to notice when Yang trails after them into one of the ballroom's alcoves.

"Not that I wouldn't be interested in the work," Nikos says wrly, "but somehow I don't think you're interested in hiring a Mistrali knight to supplement your security."

It would hardly be the first time Atlas supplanted her native forces with a foreign knight, but as it happens, Nikos is entirely correct.

"No," Winter says simply, "I was merely intervening between Lord Ozpin and someone unfamiliar with him."

"He's either a jerk, or he really doesn't understand how people work," Yang says. Winter conceals a smile at Yang's adaptation; she frequently uses courtly speech during the high holidays, but knights rarely do so unless attached to a court. Nikos spoke in the common parlance. Yang matched her.

Nikos doesn't jump when Yang speaks, merely turning to her with that same wry smile. "I see that."

"What brings you to Atlas, Lady Nikos?" Winter reaches out for another glass off of the tray of a wandering waiter, raising an eyebrow at Yang and Nikos in offering. Yang shakes her head, but Nikos nods, and Winter hands her a glass.

"Recertification," Nikos says, making a pleased noise when the liquid hits her tongue. "Atlas' standards for foreign knights have risen, and it's been five years since my last visit."

Winter knows exactly which standards she means. She's the one who raised them.

"Do you think them too high?" Winter asks mildly, taking a sip of her drink.

At her side, Yang muffles a cough into the crook of her elbow. Winter keeps a calm face. Weiss may be Queen, and Whitley may be Spymaster, but Winter had the same statecraft instruction as either of them; she knows how to draw opinions out of people.

"No," Nikos says simply. "I think it's important to keep your standards high for knighthood. If someone wants to be available for martial hire, a Hunter's license is far easier to obtain. Knighthood should mean living up to the fullest extent of the kingdom's ideals."

"And do you think you live up to the fullest extent of Atlas' ideals?" Winter doesn't pretend this is a casual question.

Nikos smiles, this one genuine. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Yang grins. "If you want some tips on the combat portion, I know the proctor."

Nikos raises an eyebrow. "I don't suppose it would be Queen's Champion Schnee?"

Yang claps a hand to her chest, pretending shock. "Snowdrift, I think she's onto us."

The innuendo is entirely purposeful. Winter keeps her immediate response to herself.

"How will the integrity of our exam ever recover?" Winter asks dryly.

The music shifts, changing to one of Yang's favorites. Her eyes light up, and she holds out a hand to Nikos. "Do you dance, Lady Nikos?"

Nikos looks from Yang to Winter. "I'd hate to keep you from a dance with your wife." She knows exactly who they are to each other, then.

Yang winks. "You'll have to dance with us both, then."

That gets a flash of something in Nikos' eyes, something that has Winter finishing her drink and setting it on a waiter's tray. Impeccable timing.

"I can't say I know any dances for three," Nikos says. It isn't a no. She follows Winter's lead and downs her drink, handing over the glass.

Yang throws her head back, laughing. "I think you'll catch on."

Nikos raises her head, takes Yang's hand, and follows them onto the dance floor.

For the first set, Nikos lets herself be led. Winter and Yang trade off showing her the steps, keeping things simple by silent agreement. Not every fighter is a dancer, though the two skills often complement one another.

They swing into the second set, and a disappointed Winter thinks it will be a repeat of the first. Then Nikos steps into Yang, perfectly placed for a leading position. It's not enough of a change to make Yang stumble, but it's enough to quickly, effortlessly take control of their movements. Winter can see a single moment of hunger in Yang's eyes; it's rare that someone can see past Yang's huge personality and dare try taking the lead from her.

Winter complements their movements with her own, watching as Nikos gracefully leads Yang through the steps of a dance she learned only minutes before. Yes, Winter thinks with a flare of heat, Nikos might do for them.

When it comes to the third set, Winter thinks Nikos will call it to a halt, or Yang will. Instead, Yang hands off Nikos with a wink, and walks off to coax Weiss into a dance.

"If you'll take the lead, Lady Schnee?" Nikos smiles, bowing.

"Of course."

Nikos lets her lead, Winter thinks, out of a consideration for Winter's probable dislike for giving up control. When it comes to the public sphere, Nikos is absolutely correct; as Champion Winter simply cannot afford any manner of perceived weakness, including allowing a foreign knight to take the lead on the dance floor. Yang, on the other hand, has no stake in Atlas' power games. So long as she neither comments on Atlesian affairs nor appears to be acting counter to Winter's interests, she can do as she pleases.

Privately, Winter enjoys a certain flexibility. Yang generally yields to her, but they have spent more than one very enjoyable night with the power dynamic flipped. Nikos isn't familiar enough for Winter to say for certain what she might - in theory - enjoy, but it isn't out of the realm of possibility.

When the set concludes, they bow to one another, and Winter holds out her arm for Nikos. The woman smiles and takes it, following Winter back to another alcove.

"We should spar," Yang says, bouncing up to them. She's flush from exertion; she and Weiss danced at a rather _faster_ pace than the rest of the participants.

"The three of us, again?" Nikos also has a flush to her cheeks, vivid red against her pale skin.

Yang tilts back her head in a laugh. "Nah. You and me. If you can't hold your own against me, there's no way you'll pass combat here. Winter's _rough_ on foreign knights."

Winter doesn't contradict her. She'll be pushing Nikos for reasons entirely unrelated to her fitness as a knight, but the baseline standards for knighthood are strict, here.

"Then perhaps we should," Nikos says, a smile curling the corner of her mouth.

A local baron politely requests Nikos' presence in a discussion about the Grimm presence in Mistral, and she takes her leave. Winter and Yang watch her go, Winter's gaze rather subtler than Yang's.

"Think she's into it?" After this many years of marriage, Yang doesn't have to elaborate what 'it' is. Nikos, if she is interested, will not be the first woman they've taken to bed together.

"I think," Winter says, resting the tips of her fingers on the small of Yang's back, "that knowing what I do of Mistrali _bacchanalia_ , she will at the very least turn us down politely."

Yang chuckles. "You gonna kiss it better if she doesn't kiss _me_ better?"

Winter resists the urge to do exactly that, instead lowering her voice. "Have I ever failed you?"

"Not in this life, or the next."

Winter kisses her.

[*]

That night, they curl up together in bed, trading slow kisses.

Winter's libido is a reluctant thing, slow to wake and difficult to coax. She enjoys intimate moments such as these, pressed close to Yang. The small sounds Yang makes, the way she clings to Winter. They're well-matched in that while Yang's libido is easily struck and fiercely burning, she is just as content with this, with sharing a moment of mouths gliding together.

Pale fingers slide between sun-browned thighs. Yang whines into her mouth.

"You aren't orgasming tonight," Winter says, warning.

Yang presses into Winter's hand. "Touch me anyway."

Winter pushes up Yang's sleeping shirt, moves aside her panties, and starts slowly coaxing pleasure from her wife.

The softer emotions don't come easily to Winter, but moments like this make it worth the toil. She cannot imagine desiring sexual contact outside of the winter months if she didn't care for Yang this deeply. Before Yang, Winter had only taken a single lover. It had been in the deep of winter when her magic tore through her veins, and was for the sole purpose of obtaining the experience. Now, she considers herself a skilled lover, and entirely because she enjoys watching pleasure transform Yang.

Yang eventually stops her, panting and flushed. She kisses Winter through breathless laughter, sucks her own arousal off Winter's fingers, and tucks her head into Winter's neck.

"Too much?" Winter asks, knowing the answer is no but needing an answer regardless.

"Mm," Yang purrs, "just enough." She presses her lips to Winter's jaw affectionately. "How long do we give Nikos before I jump someone else?"

 _Fidelity_ is a different concept with the two of them than it is to others. Winter would consider it disloyal if Yang sought company without Winter's knowledge. With her permission, however, Yang has taken other lovers. Winter neither knows nor needs to know names or even professions; it's her ring on Yang's hand, as possessive as that may sound. Winter is the one Yang comes home to.

Winter chuckles. "At least wait until she has tried for recertification."

Yang makes a considering noise, adjusting Winter's sleeping clothes so their stomachs press together skin to skin. They both sigh, relaxing.

"You gonna tease me 'til she does?" There's a note of interest in Yang's voice. It isn't intentional - Winter would wager her intent is _casual_ \- but it is there nonetheless.

It makes the decision easy: "Every night I can," Winter promises.

Yang's head jerks upwards, violet eyes searching Winter's face. "Don't push yourself, Snowdrift, I mean it. I'd rather wait for somebody else than have you uncomfortable."

"I won't." That, too, is easy to promise. There was a time when Winter doubted, when she could not imagine a future where Yang would stay with someone who didn't often desire sex, but that time has long since passed.

A smile cracks the seriousness on Yang's face. "Then hell yeah."

They fall asleep twined together, breathing in perfect time.

[*]

"Good morning, Lady Nikos!"

Nikos blinks, looking from Yang to Winter. She's already in what looks to be her clothes for the day: sturdy leggings, a tightly-fastened shirt, and well-worn boots. The sword by her side isn't the same as the night before, but Winter suspects it's more often used.

"Up for a spar?" Yang smiles winningly.

Nikos tilts her head. "Right now?"

"When better?" Yang flicks her long, heavy braid over one shoulder, toying with the end. "Unless you're busy?"

Nikos shakes her head, and holds up one finger in the universal sign of 'give me a moment'. "Let me grab my spear."

As soon as Nikos is out of sight, Yang looks to Winter and waggles her eyebrows. She hardly needs to say a word for Winter to know she's come up with an innuendo about Nikos' spear. This is the woman she married, Winter can't help but think, smothering a smile.

Nikos emerges with a weapon longer than she is tall, engraved with golden runes and tipped with a bronze head. Her hand fits perfectly into one of the grips, and the woman herself seems steadier with it in her possession. Winter immediately revises her thought from earlier: _this_ is Nikos' primary weapon.

"Size does matter!" Yang chirps, pretending innocence. Judging by the raised eyebrow she gets from Nikos, the other woman is as fooled as Winter is.

The three of them make their way from the visitor's quarters to the training grounds. Yang, of course, knows the names of just about everyone, while Winter contents herself with a nod to most, and a murmured word to many of the guards. Nikos smiles when recognized, and otherwise stays silent. She's not here to court favor, then. Good.

Unlike most of Schnee Castle, the training grounds are simple, functional: a single expanse of land, a handful of training posts, and a stone arena. Whitley continually advocates for a more modern arena, but Winter has shut him down time and time again. When he can provide a design that she cannot demolish with her own magics, let alone calling upon Weiss for additional testing, she will allow him to modernize her training grounds. Until then, they will use reinforced stone the way they have for generations.

After warming up, Yang and Nikos square off in the arena. Winter will freely admit it's a pleasant sight; the amount of muscle on display is considerable, and Yang chose her most flattering-yet-functional top. The cestus strapped to her forearms add an element of lethality Winter appreciates. She's seen what Yang can do with them.

"Show me what you've got, Lady Nikos."

Yang raises her hands. Nikos readies her spear. Yang darts forward, and the dance begins.

The first thought Winter has is that Nikos is skilled. Like the dance last night, she takes her time figuring out Yang's patterns, attempting to draw her out. Against human opponents, Yang relies on breaking their guard. She knocks them down, disarms them, aims for crippling blows when she can. Nikos' spear might have superior reach, but Yang spent years fighting bandits with spears and staves. They're remarkably evenly matched.

As the fight goes on, they both raise their skill levels. Yang starts adding acrobatics, calling on her ki to launch herself in the air or twist past a blow. Nikos does the same, striking her spear into the ground to vault over Yang's strikes. The few guards in the area stop what they're doing to watch, and Winter doesn't hide her smirk.

"You're pretty good, for a Mistrali," Yang grins, wiping sweat off of her temple. "You wanna take it up a notch?"

"I don't know, Schnee, can you handle the heat?" Nikos taunts. She flashes a smile, not taking her eyes off Yang for a moment.

Yang laughs, delighted. "So you've heard of me."

Nikos smirks. "I do my research."

Taking a deep breath, Yang flares her ki. Her eyes swirl from violet to red, her long braid glowing with energy. Another breath and the air around her ripples with heat. Winter has seen her literally ignite, warping reality around herself with the force of her anger and power.

They had a _very_ pleasant night after that.

Nothing visible changes in Nikos, but Winter can feel something nonetheless. She may not be as attuned as her sister, but she is a mage of no small measure, and can feel when the currents shift.

At some invisible cue, the two of them clash once more. The exchanges move faster this time, smoother. Yang leaps higher, Nikos turns near-misses into hits. The air around them shimmers with heat and whatever invisible magics Nikos uses. A passive enhancement, perhaps.

Guards crowd the walls, watching. Perhaps Winter should be reprimanding them, but she is no less spellbound. It isn't often two combatants of this caliber spar publicly.

They wind down at the same invisible signal, sweat pouring down both their bodies. Yang smiles fiercely, and Nikos seems no less elated.

"Good spar," Yang says, reaching out a hand.

Nikos shakes it, then bows. "My pleasure."

Winter meets Yang just before she disappears into the locker rooms. Many days she follows Yang inside and they discuss whatever training they accomplish, but today discretion is the better part of valor; if she is alone with Yang right now, they will quickly be indecent.

Yang turns to her, eyes still crimson, and wraps her fingers around Winter's forearm. She does not need to speak for Winter to know what she's thinking.

"Come to our quarters after lunch," Winter says, only a lifetime of discipline stopping her from making _after lunch_ into _right now_.

"We get you all hot and bothered?" Yang looks up at Winter through her eyelashes, moving her hand down to slide in under Winter's sleeve. She's hot, still bleeding heat from the match. Winter wants to swallow it down.

Winter dares to curl her fingers around the back of Yang's neck, squeezing pointedly. Yang hums, her grip on Winter tightening.

They part before temptation can strike deeper, and Winter returns to the training grounds to lead guards through their morning drills.

[*]

Surprisingly, Nikos attends lunch at the same time as Yang and Winter.

Breakfast and lunch are loose things in the Atlesian court. Any courtier with appreciable experience could tell you that Weiss categorically refuses human contact before her first cup of coffee has been emptied, Whitley despises mornings, and Winter dislikes politics on the best of days. In a similar vein, lunch consists of a spread laid out at approximately high noon, with all residents of the castle able to drift in, eat, and leave. According to Yang, it is the meal of choice for the common workers, and Winter can believe it; no one in the castle eats poorly, but there is a difference in quality between that which reaches the high tables, and that which the servants eat. Except at lunch.

Nikos arrives minutes after Winter and Yang do, with a flush that implies she's been out on the training grounds this entire time. She only nods to the two of them when collecting her plate, but smiles when Yang beckons her closer.

The high tables remain accessible during breakfast and lunch, but Yang prefers to sit at the low tables, and Winter hardly cares enough to request a change. Nikos, despite her title and knighthood, sits down without a single sign of discomfort. Winter has known only a few knights in her time, and much prefers Nikos' nonchalance to the entitlement of lowest nobility.

"You did pretty well today!" Yang grins at Nikos, already halfway through her pork buns. Shortly after Yang and Winter's engagement, Winter had quietly encouraged the castle kitchen staff to learn dishes from Yang's native lands. She will never forget the look on Yang's face the first time they presented the court with a series of dishes she actually recognized.

"Thank you, Lady Schnee," Nikos smiles. She, too, has a few pork buns, and Winter wonders if she's had them before or if her choice is based in curiosity.

Yang snorts, gesturing with her fork. "Nope. We beat each other up today. I'm just Yang. Lady Schnee is my wife."

Nikos laughs, tilting her head. "Yang, then. I'm Pyrrha."

"If you are on such familiar terms with my wife, Lady Nikos," Winter cuts in, "then I insist you call me Winter."

"Pyrrha," Nikos - Pyrrha - says, with a slow smile.

"Pyrrha," Winter agrees.

Yang and Pyrrha banter through the rest of the meal, with Winter interjecting the occasional dry comment. Pyrrha is surprisingly quick-witted for a knight who shows no interest in political games, and more than once Yang ends up laughing so hard she has to wipe tears out of the corner of her eyes. Winter long ago gave up on not smiling in public when out with her wife, and settles for transforming it into a smirk that onlookers can interpret however they like. And yes, there are onlookers. When it comes to Winter, there always are.

"You know," Pyrrha says innocently, when their plates are cleared, "considering the combat portion of my recertification exam is tomorrow, some might call this fraternization."

Winter shakes her head with a faint smile. "With how hard I am going to push you tomorrow, no one sensible will think that."

Something flashes across Pyrrha's face, too quickly to follow. Then she says, with just a hint of suggestion in her voice, "I respond well to being pushed hard."

Before Yang can interject, Winter leans her knee firmly against her wife's. Yang shifts a little, but doesn't say anything.

"Then I imagine we will be celebrating soon, as I intend to push you to your limit." Winter keeps her tone level, but allows a touch of heat to enter her gaze. "I am the premier duelist in the kingdom. I have only been touched once."

"I bet she can touch you twice," Yang says. It would be careless, if not for the way her leg presses into Winter's.

Pyrrha chuckles. "I'd certainly like to try."

They part ways soon after that, Pyrrha back to the training grounds, and Yang and Winter to their quarters. As soon as they're in their inner chambers, Winter pushes Yang up against the wall, her mouth already seeking her wife's.

"Fuck," Yang hisses. She grasps the front of Winter's shirt, rolling her hips and whining when Winter bites into her lip. "I want you to watch me ride her."

Winter bites her way across Yang's jaw, sinking her teeth into the hinge and glorying in the moan she gets. "In our bed." She bites again, harder, and gets a thin whine of pleasure. "The two of you, moving together."

Strong hands fumble with the ties to her shirt, nearly ripping fabric. Winter moves her mouth downward, teeth scraping over Yang's shoulder. Her wife is already heating, her knees dipping when Winter bites into her bicep. 

Winter's libido is still inevitably reluctant, but there's something comparable to it in this. There's an echo of the Midwinter sex drive in her desire to pleasure Yang, and were they not in the heat of summer she might well accept direct physical pleasure for herself. Still, she's very willing to wind Yang tighter so that she can come undone with another, whether Pyrrha or one of her more regular lovers.

"You aren't coming tonight, either," Winter murmurs directly into her ear. Yang shivers, pulling a chuckle from Winter's throat. "Stand bent over the bed, and tell me what size you want."

She steps back, taking a second to admire the already-darkening bruises on Yang's skin. Yang laughs breathlessly, and pulls her in for a brief kiss before moving to do as instructed.

Their bed is precisely big enough for Yang to comfortably bend fully over it while still standing, and Winter has never regretted a decorating choice less in her life. Even in moments when sex feels as foreign and distant as their shattered moon, Yang is beautiful and Winter always enjoys the flush on her face when Winter folds her over the bed and leaves her that way. She flusters and teases when put on display, but in less heated moments she's assured Winter she enjoys it.

"If you're just going to watch my ass until dinner," Yang says, turning her head to look at Winter over her shoulder. "At least let me lay down. Pyrrha played rough."

"What size, Yang?" Winter reminds her, not bothering to hide her amusement. She crosses the room to the case where their sexual aids are kept, opening it pointedly.

Yang pretends to think, though they both know she decided as soon as Winter asked. "The grey one."

The aid in question is a hands-free strap-on, larger than Winter typically enjoys for herself but not a size that will require preparation and generous amounts of lubrication before use. She spends a moment deciding how much clothing she would like to keep on, then unfastens her trousers, sliding it inside them and into herself. She's... quite a bit more physically aroused than she expected.

"Show me," Winter commands, turning back towards her wife.

Yang pulls her trousers open, sliding them down along with her panties. A glance at Winter, and then she steps out of both, bending back over and spreading her legs.

The sight of her wife, very clearly aroused and presented for her use, causes an unexpected bolt to travel through Winter. Gods, they may have to chase a shared lover more often, she thinks, though objectively she's aware that their last conquest didn't cause this reaction. Pyrrha Nikos is something far beyond the typical spread of knights who present themselves at court.

"Can I--" Yang interrupts herself with a moan when Winter steps up behind her, questing fingers spreading her folds. "--Um. Can I--"

"Do not orgasm or change position," Winter orders, smearing generous amounts of Yang's own arousal over the dildo.

Yang immediately squirms out of the rest of her clothing, not needing clarification to pick up on the implied permission. She props herself up on one elbow, free hand pinching her nipple. She shudders, pushing her hips backwards against Winter. "Fuck me hard?"

Winter positions the dildo at her entrance, pushing forward. "Of course."

Time stretches. Winter _savages_ Yang, nails digging harshly into her hips and teeth sinking into whatever flesh she can reach. Yang hisses, swears, twists underneath her-- and through it all, asks for more. Winter murmurs about how powerful Yang was while fighting, how she had Winter's utmost attention. Yang gasps back broken sentences about touching herself in the shower to thoughts of pleasuring Winter. Several times Winter feels Yang approach orgasm, and each time she eases her back from it, lengthens her thrusts and smooths her palms over Yang's skin.

Finally, Yang stills her with a hand on her hip and a rasped word. She moves to disengage, only for Yang to shake her head, fingers tightening. Winter leans over her instead, pressing gentle kisses down the line of her spine.

"Tomorrow," Yang murmurs eventually, letting go of Winter's hip and sighing when the dildo slides out of her. "If she doesn't want to play I'll go ride the stablemaster or something, but gods, Snowdrift, it has to be tomorrow."

"Whatever you need," Winter agrees, grabbing her wife and pushing her upwards towards the center of the bed. "Rest. I will return."

After the bare minimum of cleanup, Winter sheds her clothes and climbs into bed next to Yang. The other woman immediately curls into her, seeking skin and reassurance. Winter gladly gives both.

"Winter, are you...?" Yang's fingers drift downward to rest on her belly.

Winter huffs out a laugh. "I was more affected by the spectacle than I anticipated."

Yang jolts backwards, studying Winter's face with a combination of confusion and wonder. "You like watching me get my ass kicked that much?" Before Winter can reply, Yang reads her thoughts on her face and snorts. "Trust me, she was holding back. I'm pretty sure I'd do better against Grimm, but Pyrrha's a better duelist than I am."

It's no small claim. Yang has years of life-or-death experience that few court duelists can match, along with a large amount of natural talent. For a titled knight of the same age to have stronger skills than Yang is almost beyond belief. Pyrrha Nikos has the Mistrali equivalent of a Barony. The drive to succeed as a duelist almost always comes from the knights with a mere lordship, the ones who know they have nowhere to go but up.

Gentle fingers stroke her stomach, and Winter shakes off the thoughts. Yang tilts her head. "Do you want...?" 

Winter shakes her head. The concept of direct physical pleasure is an unpleasant one, right now. She does, however, have a vague hope for this memory to resurface in the colder months; Yang has a very talented mouth.

They indulge one another with skin and heat, interrupted only when Winter's stomach growls out hunger.

Yang snorts. "We just got done eating, and you're already hungry?"

"My wife keeps me very active," Winter says blandly.

Yang laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

[*]

Dinner features Yang gently flirting with Pyrrha, and Nikos keeping pace with her verbally, although not quite with the same tone. 

Watching Yang flirt is, as always, a pleasure. Subtle is not in her vocabulary, but she is particularly skilled at expressing admiration without any pressure to acknowledge or return that regard. It is every bit a skill as hard-earned as the subtle maze of courtship that takes place in Atlas daily, and one Winter enjoys more.

"I will see you at dawn, Pyrrha," Winter says, when their plates are cleared.

Pyrrha nods in return, though Winter suspects there is a smile hidden in the corner of her mouth. "I look forward to it."

When she is completely out of earshot, Weiss raises her cup to her lips to obscure her words from any onlookers. "If you have seduced Lady Nikos in advance of her recertification trials, I will not be best pleased."

Winter turns her head just far enough to give Weiss a flat stare, which is all the statement deserves. Weiss huffs, and promptly ignores her for the rest of the night.

[*]

Dawn brings with it a crowd of yawning guardsmen, a grinning Yang, and a focused, alert Pyrrha Nikos.

"Lady Nikos," Winter announces once the sun crests the horizon, pitching her voice to carry, "do you accept this test of your martial virtue?"

"I do, Queen's Champion." Pyrrha's voice rings out clear and strong.

"Atlas is known as the Morning Lands. We are the innovators, those who lead the way towards the change that battles stagnation. Do you, Lady Pyrrha Nikos, Knight of the Day, Knight of the Dusk, and Knight of the Midnight Sun, swear to be the first sword risen against the tides of chaos, and fight until you are the last dying light?"

"I do so swear."

Winter lifts her chin, unwilling to stop the heat coursing through her veins. "Do you further swear to defend every citizen of Atlas, from the Queen herself to the youngest stableboy?"

"I do so swear."

"Then stand your ground, Lady Nikos, and show Atlas that she is right to place her faith in you!"

As one, they turn their weapons to the sun, then to one another. Winter holds position for a beat, feeding on the light she can see in Pyrrha's eyes, then charges towards her.

Immediately, the test becomes an intricate dance, too fast-paced for conscious thought. Euphoria thrums in Winter's blood as she strikes, parries, side-steps. Within moments it becomes apparent that Pyrrha is one of the best duelists Winter has ever faced. Shortly after that, Winter revises her opinion: Pyrrha is _the_ best duelist Winter has ever faced.

Pyrrha strikes through her guard once, her spear cutting through the fabric of Winter's upper arm, and she can feel her magics rise despite the time of year. There is no chance of her using them, not at dawn in the middle of summer, but the energy of them rises to protect her. Winter fights them back. They'll do nothing but distract her.

"That's one, Winter," Pyrrha says, eyes intent and voice too low to be overheard. "I thought you were going to push me."

Winter knows she isn't imagining the undertone there. "I haven't begun to push, Pyrrha."

They come together again, even faster, harder. With every passing second they become more synchronized, more aware of one another's movements. Winter has never been matched in pure martial skill. Weiss' magic would have her classified as a weapon of mass destruction if the other kingdoms knew the extent of it, but with only a sword she is merely very good. The more Winter lets loose, the more Pyrrha does so as well. Winter aches to fight her in the fall, when Winter can test her ice against Pyrrha's invisible force that turns near-collisions into solid strikes.

The test progresses to the point where Winter is aware she's going to lose. She is the most skilled duelist in the kingdom, but at higher levels her reflexes are trained for having her magic available, or for fighting alongside another person. It is the first time in her entire life that someone has pushed her to the edge in her duties as Champion.

Pyrrha's spear comes very close to Winter's heart. The truth of the matter is that it should have struck, but Pyrrha's magic, that invisible control, causes it to veer out of the way. Winter steps into Pyrrha's guard, slams the flat of her sword against the inside of Pyrrha's wrist to make her drop her spear, and raises an eyebrow.

With a rueful smile, Pyrrha shakes out her surely-twinging wrist, and bows at the waist. "I concede, Queen's Champion."

"I accept your concession, Lady Nikos."

Pyrrha retrieves her spear, and they bow to one another.

When Winter steps off of the field, Yang is there waiting. There's heat well-hidden in her gaze, and her skin burns when she wraps her fingers around Winter's forearm. She doesn't say a word, just smiles with laughter dancing in her eyes. Winter knows what she's thinking.

The day goes by in a haze of routine, Winter sending off her report and her recommendation. She keeps remembering flashes of steel, of green eyes, of adrenaline screaming in her veins. Regardless of where tonight goes, she wants to face Pyrrha again on the practice grounds.

Dinner unsurprisingly finds Pyrrha sat at their table, an extra chair smoothly added onto the high table without disrupting the spacing overmuch. Winter doesn't know how much of it is her brother's doing, and surprises herself by how little she cares. He was more right than he knew, to point her towards Lady Pyrrha Nikos.

The conversation, unsurprisingly, quickly turns towards the recertification test that morning.

"I've never seen anyone challenge Winter that way," Yang says admiringly. "The last time anyone even tried was... what, Snowdrift, that jerk from Vale?"

Winter hums agreement, then lifts her cup to her lips to obscure her mouth. "And no one has ever beaten me before today."

Yang's jaw drops. Pyrrha keeps a straight face, feigning confusion. "Did you continue on after my test?"

Winter raises an eyebrow. She thinks she knows why Pyrrha let her win - surely the same reason she let Winter lead the dance the other night - but that doesn't mean she has to indulge her. "You know perfectly well what I mean." 

The confusion stays, but it's a flimsy construct now. "I'm sure that I don't."

Winter snorts, setting her cup on the table. "I sent in my recommendation earlier. If you would like to discuss it tonight, Yang and I would be honored to host you in our quarters."

Pyrrha's eyes flick over Winter's shoulder to Yang. Winter doesn't bother turning to look to her wife. She knows exactly what she'll see in Yang's eyes.

"I'd hate to interrupt your time together," Pyrrha says, her gaze moving back to Winter.

"Oh, you'd be making it better, trust me," Yang says, just this side of suggestive.

Pyrrha chuckles. "Then how can I refuse?"

Dinner doesn't quite drag by, if only because Yang is in fine form; she flirts endlessly with them both, gentler with Pyrrha than Winter. Pyrrha doesn't so much flirt back - Winter doesn't know that she's inclined to it - but she certainly doesn't show any discomfort, and willingly banters if nothing else.

When dinner adjourns, Weiss gives Winter a baleful look before stalking off in the direction of her own royal chambers. Whitley smothers a smile behind his hand and gives Winter a look that is the straight-faced equivalent of a wink. Winter considers a life as an only child.

Yang fills the walk to their quarters with a story about the stablemaster that Winter knows for a fact is edited. She's heard too much about his trouser malfunction to forget.

Winter enters their outer chambers last, shutting the door behind the three of them but not locking it quite yet. For all of their sakes, Pyrrha needs to have the option to leave as open as possible until and unless she clearly indicates her willingness to stay.

"Somehow," Pyrrha says dryly, "I doubt we're here to discuss the recertification test."

Yang throws herself into one of the chairs, lacing fingers behind her head. "I mean we could. I'm always up for talking about how awesome my wife is."

"Or," Winter says calmly, standing just to the side of the door, "we could adjourn to the inner chambers." Pyrrha turns to face her, and Winter keeps her expression calm. "I have already submitted my report. Your answer won't influence that, not that I had any intention of letting it."

"That's why I'm here, actually," Pyrrha says, swallowing. "I knew if I didn't take you up on this tonight, I wouldn't be able to. If I had been bold last night, I would always wonder if I passed based on that, rather than my merits."

Winter chuckles. "Are you so sure you passed?"

Pyrrha raises an eyebrow. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to; if she hasn't passed the combat portion of her recertification based on that morning's display, no one ever will. Winter inclines her head, silently conceding the point.

"And if tomorrow..." Pyrrha shakes her head. "I would wonder if gratitude played a part. If I were to bed you, it had to be tonight."

"So you were thinking about this last night?" Yang smirks, tilting her head back and shaking her head out of her face.

"After that spar, I wasn't the only one." Pyrrha's voice is certain, and Yang's smirk deepens.

"Is that a yes?" Winter asks, stepping closer.

"Yes."

Winter locks the door. She doesn't bother to lock the inner chamber door behind the three of them when Yang leads the way towards their bedroom, just watches her wife move into Pyrrha's space, looking up at her through her eyelashes.

"I would like to watch you pleasure my wife," Winter says.

Pyrrha tilts her head, looking from one of them to the other. She doesn't look uninterested, just curious. "Is this a regular arrangement between the two of you?"

Yang shrugs, but Winter can see nervousness in the way she runs a hand through her hair. "We've done it a couple times, yeah."

"I rarely wish to participate," Winter says simply, "I always wish her to be taken care of properly."

"Hmm." Pyrrha lifts her hands to frame Yang's jaw between them. "How about this: Yang, get on the bed. Once we've warmed up, I'd like to pleasure you."

Yang grins. "I'm already on board with this."

"However," Pyrrha's voice drops into a rumble, "you don't get to orgasm until your wife says you do."

Even across the room, Winter can feel Yang heat up.

"Fuck," Yang breathes, her eyes searching Pyrrha's.

"I agree," Winter says, moving to sit in the armchair near their bed. It may or may not have been acquired for this exact purpose.

Yang lets out a slow breath. "Yeah that's... good. Rules?"

Pyrrha chuckles, leaning down to brush her lips over Yang's. "Let me take care of you. I'd hate to disappoint the _Queen's Champion_ by not pleasuring her wife properly." She steals another kiss, then: "What do you want?"

"Your mouth," Yang blurts out. She blushes, clearing her throat. "Um. No blood, no anal. I'll... I'll tell you if I want to stop. Or Winter will."

"There are barriers in the nightstand," Winter adds, lowering her voice in a way she knows Yang enjoys.

Pyrrha nods, then kisses Yang again. "Get on the bed, Yang."

Winter watches the two of them move onto the bed, Pyrrha guiding Yang onto her back. Yang whines into her mouth, but stays where she's placed. Winter smirks, sitting on the edge of her seat and resting her elbows on her knees.

Pyrrha drags her mouth from Yang's lips to her jaw, then down to her neck. "Winter. Come closer."

Winter pushes her chair forward, until her knees are very nearly touching the bed. This much closer, she can hear every sigh, see every shift of muscle. Which was, of course, the point. Clever woman.

Strong fingers unfasten Yang's blouse, carelessly pushing it open and tracing the lines of her ribs, her stomach. She moans, hands fisting at her sides. Pyrrha murmurs permission for Yang to touch her, and Yang immediately pulls Pyrrha's head up so she can kiss her again.

They kiss in heated strokes, Pyrrha shifting on top of her entirely. Yang's hips roll upward, and Pyrrha meets her motion for motion, pulling rumbled sound out of both their throats. Winter has a brief desire to touch - even she doesn't know which of them she would be touching - and she pushes it down. Her role here is an observer.

Yang's clothes steadily but surely get loosened, pushed out of place until she looks throughly debauched. Winter's eyes trace the flush to her skin, the glaze to her eyes, the way she arches into every touch. It's been quite a while since they shared a lover this way, with Winter being close enough to touch and yet not actively participating. She had forgotten how much she enjoys it.

"Mm," Pyrrha murmurs, smiling against Yang's collarbone. "I thought you might enjoy being on the receiving end of things."

Yang laughs breathlessly. "Who says I'm not a huge--"

Lightning-quick, Pyrrha's hands pin Yang's above her head. Yang moans, her hips bucking. Pyrrha makes a satisfied noise, chuckling. "I thought so."

Pyrrha pushes her body between Yang's legs, rolling her stomach into Yang's core. Every motion gets another whine from Yang, a twist of her hips, a bitten lip. Winter knows all too well what Yang looks like when she's on the verge of begging, and Pyrrha has brought her there in such a short amount of time. Well, Winter amends mentally, the two days of flirting and Winter denying her orgasm certainly contributed.

Pyrrha watches Yang hungrily, still moving against her. Red hair falls around her face, moved out of the way with a flick of her head. Winter finds herself wanting to touch again, wanting to help the two of them find pleasure, something that certainly did not happen the last time they shared a lover.

When Pyrrha lets go of Yang's hands, it's to quickly strip her, pulling Yang's trousers over her hips with a few short jerks, and her shirt and bra off with hurried motions. Winter leans over to the nightstand and retrieves a set of barriers, setting them on the bed within easy reach. Pyrrha murmurs thanks before sitting up to pull off her own shirt.

They're both beautiful, all sun-browned skin and hardened muscle, scars twisting around and sometimes down into bone. These are two women who have fought for their lives, who have sweated and bled and studied to become more skilled, more lethal. Some primal, animal part of Winter is satisfied to have these two hunters in her bed, willingly laid bare to her. For tonight, at least, they are hers to watch.

"Do you still desire my mouth, Lady Schnee?" Pyrrha murmurs, guiding Yang's hands to her breasts. Yang's fingers brush over her skin, palms sliding across her nipples, and Pyrrha closes her eyes, lips parting in a pleased sigh.

"I very much still desire your mouth, Lady Nikos," Yang whispers, gently cupping Pyrrha's breasts in her hands.

Pyrrha pushes into Yang's touch one last time, then leans down to move down her body. Her teeth touch Yang's hip on her way down, and Yang shudders out a breath.

When Pyrrha looks to the side, Winter hands over a barrier. Their fingers brush as Pyrrha takes it, and a bolt of heat surprises Winter. She very, very much hopes Pyrrha comes back in the colder months.

Yang whines as soon as the barrier makes contact, and she's babbling before Pyrrha even finds her rhythm. She manages half-sentences about how long it's been and how close she already is, her hand gently coming to rest on top of Pyrrha's head. Pyrrha's hands come to curl around the top of Yang's thighs, and she hums into her work.

"You can make it a little longer, Yang," Winter says, reaching out to take Yang's free hand. She knows where Yang's limits are, knows when depriving her will turn from enjoyable to sour. They're approaching that line, but not close enough that Winter is concerned.

Yang whines loudly, back arching and eyes closed. "Please, I'm so close, Winter, say it's alright, tell me I can--"

"Pyrrha, I'm going to kiss her," Winter warns. Pyrrha makes an acknowledging noise, and Winter leans over the bed, pressing her lips to Yang's.

Yang reaches up to thread fingers into Winter's hair, not half as gentle as she is with Pyrrha. She kisses filthy and desperate, managing to beg even in the strokes of her tongue, the moans that Winter swallows down. Gods, if they'd negotiated this with Pyrrha, Winter would climb into bed with them and risk the potential crash later from inviting sexual touch in a poor season for it.

She barely hears herself tell Yang to orgasm, drowned out almost immediately by Yang's long, low moan and an answering one from Pyrrha. Yang swears eloquently in her native language, breaking the kiss to throw her head back and pant.

"I only heard about half of that, and it's not my native tongue," Pyrrha says dryly, when Yang's lying back and wheezing, "but I'm pretty sure that was filthy."

Yang mutters something reflexive about Pyrrha's "native tongue", and Winter chuckles.

"Do you mind if I...?" Winter gestures, meaning that she'd like to get onto the bed.

"I don't mind," Pyrrha says, moving upwards to stretch out parallel to Yang.

Winter climbs into the bed, gently stroking her fingers over Yang's jaw. Her wife is flushed, breathing heavily and keeping her eyes tightly shut. She barely reacts to Winter's touch, just twitching a leg towards her.

"She will need quite a bit of time to recover," Winter says, apologetic. She should have warned Pyrrha about that in advance. "Would you like me to...?"

Pyrrha shakes her head. "I wouldn't have you do anything you're uncomfortable with."

Winter moves closer to her wife, setting her hand in the space between Yang and Pyrrha. "Believe me when I say I would enjoy it."

Green eyes study hers curiously, then Pyrrha shifts closer to the two of them. Winter pulls Yang so her wife is tucked in under Winter's chin, and reaches to curl her fingers around Pyrrha's hip.

"What are you comfortable with?" Pyrrha asks, sighing encouragingly when Winter's touch starts to travel upward.

"I would like to use my hand on you," Winter says, enjoying the warmth of Pyrrha's stomach.

Pyrrha laughs breathlessly, cushioning her head on one arm. "I meant for yourself."

Winter hums consideringly, mentally touching her limitations to see where they lie. Direct stimulation is unappealing, but some physical intimacy is _very_ appealing. She pulls her hand away from Pyrrha long enough to shed her shirt and bra, lying topless on the bed. "You may touch any exposed skin."

Pyrrha smiles, and reaches out.

It has been a long, long time since Winter allowed someone new to touch her this way. Since the first time she had Yang had sex, Winter has intermittently shared a bed with those they've seduced, but never allowed them to touch her anywhere intimate. Pyrrha explores without pushing a single boundary, seemingly just as interested in Winter's back as her breasts. It doesn't quite feel like foreplay, though she is fairly certain Pyrrha is enjoying it on a sexual level. It feels like bonding, like moving forward with someone who interests her. It isn't quite like how Yang first touched her, slow and worshipful. It is curious, appreciative. Uniquely Pyrrha, Winter thinks.

Winter twists behind herself to retrieve a glove, turning back to Pyrrha to slide questing fingers between her legs. Pyrrha's grip shifts to Winter's neck, and she closes her eyes, pushing into Winter's fingers.

Pyrrha rides Winter's hand with open pleasure, hips moving in a steady rhythm. She's unafraid to ask for what she wants, murmuring _yes_ or _faster_. It took Winter and Yang a long time to reach the point of open communication about their desires, but Pyrrha starts there.

When she peaks, it's with a silent, shuddering cry. Winter stills her fingers, watching the play of ecstasy on Pyrrha's face.

"Mm," Yang murmurs, half aware, "that was hot."

Winter and Pyrrha both laugh.

A little later, after they've all three had a chance to clean up and settle, Yang curls into Pyrrha, affectionate and satisfied.

"If you plan on leaving tonight," Winter says without hiding her amusement, "you should detach her now. Given time, she will become an immovable object."

Pyrrha chuckles, resting her chin on the top of Yang's head. "I don't mind staying, if you don't mind having me."

Yang murmurs sleepy agreement, and Winter nods as well. The three of them relax, letting sleep pull them under.

[*]

Lady Pyrrha Nikos is, of course, recertified as a knight of Atlas.


End file.
